


Filling In the Blanks

by ladyeternal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is a good son-in-law, Dean & Cas would totally Netflix & chill, Episode Related, Episode: s12e02, Exposition, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Mary deserves to know the truth, Star Trek References, let me help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyeternal/pseuds/ladyeternal
Summary: Mary Winchester has been resurrected and reunited with her sons:  men grown, hunters, and full of secrets of their own.  What she doesn't know about their lives could fill the library of this strange bunker they're all living in, and neither of her sons is being particularly forthcoming and she doesn't know how to ask.
Castiel has no compunctions about filling in the blanks for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casthewise (quillquiver)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/gifts).



> Warnings: none really, but this fic does reference the fact that both Sam and Dean have died in the past in the course of Cas telling the boys' story.
> 
> Spoilers: all aired episodes through 12x02
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural, certain events would _**NEVER**_ have happened and there would be unabashed pr0n. I own little save a tabby that gets destructive when he feels ignored and am only playing in these worlds for my own amusement and the free entertainment of others.
> 
> Author's Notes: OMG I WROTE GEN!FIC HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!?
> 
> Seriously, though: this fic is the result of a minor fit I had after watching this episode. Mary Winchester's desire for a "normal" life for herself and her sons was never really possible, given her sons' destinies as Vessels of Michael and Lucifer. I've always found that to be quietly tragic. But now that she's been resurrected, I absolutely vehemently believe that she needs to be told that it wasn't in the cards. She's a strong enough woman to handle it, and there's no point keeping her in mourning for something that was never going to happen. I also, however, completely understand that neither Sam nor Dean would have the first idea how to explain it all to her without feeling like they sound insane, and would be extremely reluctant to do so for any number of reasons both sentimental and PTSD-related.
> 
> So I had Cas do it. ~_^
> 
> This is a stand-alone episode coda, completely unrelated to any of my current SPN fanfic series.
> 
> Written for [casthewise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/casthewise), who expressed on her tumblr a similar wish for Mary to be read in on the real deal. I hope you like this, hun!
> 
> Music: [Bitter Song - Butterfly Boucher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rh4MCTeQ6bM)

****

~ooooOOOoooo~

Both of the boys were long asleep; at least, Mary was fairly sure they were. Her own ability to do so had come in fits and starts since her resurrection, which was why she now roamed the common areas of the bunker like a restless spirit while her sons dreamed in their beds, unable to find her own peace amidst the myriad questions that plagued her.

She hadn’t been expecting to find Castiel in the kitchen when she finally decided to try and at least soothe her nerves with a warm drink. The angel was methodically looking through each of the food cabinets with an expression of moderate seriousness, though he turned when he heard her light step of entry. “I, uh… I didn’t know angels ate,” she offered as an icebreaker.

“I don’t normally,” Castiel replied politely, closing the cabinet he’d been perusing. “But I like to be sure that they have everything they might need, and neither of them will be much up for shopping for a few days.”

Mary’s brow furrowed. “I thought you healed them.”

“Physically.” A somewhat rueful smile crossed the angel’s lips. “But while this Woman of Letters was no Alastair, Dean will want Sam to rest for at least a few days after being subjected to her interrogation. Sam will resist, but Dean will win out. It is how they are.”

The calm surety with which Castiel said that… Mary found herself sitting down next to the kitchen island, looking up at this strangely kind ally of her sons’. “Who’s Alastair?”

“He was the chief torturer in Hell,” Castiel replied automatically. “At least until Sam killed him. I don’t know who has the position now… presuming Crowley ever actually filled it. I’m not sure.” Mary huffed out a dry chuckle, and it caught Castiel’s attention in a way he didn’t quite understand. “Have I said something amusing?”

“No,” Mary sighed, looking up at him with a fond smile. She was growing fond of him, much to her surprise, though it shouldn’t have been. He was important to Dean and Sam, which made him someone important to her by association. “It’s just… that’s the least vague answer I’ve gotten out of anyone since I found myself standing in my nightgown near a headstone bearing my name looking at a grown man that turned out to be my eldest son. And I barely understood a word of it.”

For a moment, Castiel debated with himself. He knew that Dean was concerned about overwhelming his mother with information about the events of the past three decades, both in terms of the world and in terms of the brothers’ lives. He also knew there were things that Dean would be reluctant to speak of; perhaps even incapable of doing so; and Sam would be the same way. But Mary was their mother, and clearly their stubbornness was at least partially inherited from her. She would not be content to live with half-truths and unexplained allusions forever.

Finally, he found Mary a bottle of whiskey that Dean kept by, fetched a double old-fashioned glass and poured her a healthy portion, just as he would for Dean. Her eyes widened as he slid it in front of her, then put the whiskey bottle away and sat down beside her. “You may want that from time to time, if you want the whole story, Mrs. Winchester.”

Mary’s eyebrows knitted in curiosity and consternation, though she didn’t push the drink away. “Does that mean you’re offering it?”

“I am not privy to every detail,” he admitted softly. “But what I can tell you, I will.”

Taking a deep breath, Mary steeled herself. “Okay… tell me.”

And so, he did.

Told her of Gabriel’s disappearance after giving the Word to Mohammed, and God’s withdrawal from Heaven and his angelic children.

Told her of the madness that had infected the Host, though he and the lower orders had been shielded from much of it for as long as the archangels could keep it secret: Michael’s despair and decision to actively seek the Apocalyptic meeting between he and Lucifer; Raphael’s abandonment of his healing mission in favor of power; Anael’s Fall and rebirth as a human; Uriel’s defection to Lucifer’s side.

Told her of how God had bound angels to use human vessels to walk the Earth after the disaster that had been the Nephilim, and how even the ability for a human to be such was born down through family bloodlines. How the Campbells were the strongest bloodline out of all of Lucifer’s potential vessels, and the Winchesters were the strongest of Michael’s. How Michael had ordered a Cupid to bring the two bloodlines together through she and John, for only in combining the two would the ultimate Vessels be produced.

She took her first drink from the whiskey he’d poured her at that, her eyes deeply troubled and her hand trembling as it wrapped around the glass. After a moment of uncertainty, Castiel reached out and covered her free hand with his. “Are you sure you want me to tell you the rest?” he asked.

Mary laughed around the swallow of liquor. “You tell me that I’m a potential vessel for the devil and that John was for the archangel Michael… that our sons were destined to be the human vessels that those two would wear during a Biblically foretold confrontation… and you think I’d want you to stop there?” She laughed again. “Clearly, we need to get to know each other better.”

Castiel shrugged. “We would have to do so, regardless. However…”

And so he pressed on: telling her of the many children that Azazel had imbued with the powers of a Fallen cherubim through giving them a taste of his own blood, that such had been his purpose in arranging the deals in the first place. Sketching out what little he knew of the brothers’ lives before Azazel had gathered those children in Cold Oak to battle one another, and that while Sam had been the one expected to emerge victorious, that it had actually been another, who had stabbed Sam in the back, severing the renal artery.

“He was dead in moments,” Castiel told her gently, even as she turned her hand over beneath his to grip him as tightly as she could, her eyes filling with tears. “In Dean’s arms. And in the extremis of his grief, Dean summoned a crossroads demon and made a deal: his soul for Sam’s life.”

A tiny gasp escaped her. She covered it with another drink of whiskey, her face pale. “It… is that what Sam meant? When he said that he knew what it was like to come back and not quite fit?”

Castiel offered her a wan little smile. “Your sons have defied death many times since I’ve known them, Mrs. Winchester. Sam’s death at Cold Oak was merely the first.”

Taking a deep breath, Mary let a shudder run through her. “But Dean got him back… by sacrificing himself.”

“Something else they have done countless times for one another,” Castiel confirmed. “But the deal that cost him his soul was how I met him. You see, the crossroads demon, like so many others on both sides, was working from orders that only a few fully understood at the time. Rather than the standard ten-year contract, Dean was given only one year to live before Hell claimed him, and his contract was held by Lilith herself. Dean was the scion of Michael, the Righteous Man, and the first key to unlocking the Cage in which Lucifer had been trapped for centuries was that the Righteous Man would spill blood in Hell.”

Mary looked at him, her expression asking the question she couldn’t bear to frame aloud.

“I know for a fact that Dean would not wish you to know precisely what occurred while he was in Hell.” Castiel, in fact, could well imagine Dean’s reaction to the revelation of any of those details to the mother he’d worshipped since childhood. “Suffice to say that I was one of several angels dispatched to retrieve him, because Michael needed him to be alive and in his body to consent to Michael’s possession when the time came. But we were dispatched too late to actually prevent Dean being made to spill blood in Hell, and the First Seal was broken.

“It was only a matter of time after that: Sam was being manipulated in his grief and rage by a demon called Ruby, who had insinuated herself into Sam’s trust while Dean was in Hell. I was the one to reach Dean; I rebuilt his body and resurrected him. And ultimately, when I realized what was happening… I rebelled for him.”

Something in those words… something so simple and untarnished even by all the darkness he was so carefully describing… Mary felt it catch at her heart the way that John had when he’d smiled at her so long ago. “And the world didn’t end.”

“No.” Castiel’s smile was sad now, as he remembered all of the misunderstandings, and the deaths on all sides that had been so needless. “In the end, it cost a great deal, and Sam made a tremendous sacrifice: he allowed Lucifer to take possession of him, and then took back control of his body long enough to cast himself and Lucifer back into the Cage. Michael was trapped there as well, having tried to stop him.”

“But Michael wasn’t… wearing Dean?” Mary guessed. “Dean didn’t say yes?”

“Michael… I suppose you could say he wanted a back-up plan.” He saw her sideways glance. “Your husband had a liaison with another woman, many years after your death, that led to the birth of a son named Adam. Michael used him as an alternate vessel since Dean would not consent.”

“Where is he now?” Mary asked. “Did something happen to him?”

“He was trapped in the Cage with Sam and Lucifer and Michael. When I went to retrieve Sam, I did not have the strength to bring them both back.” Castiel felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that it had been years since he’d even spared a thought for the youngest Winchester, still trapped for all this time. “But even with Sam, I was not powerful enough to do it successfully. I rescued his body, but not his soul. Death had to do that, but Sam walked the living world for over a year before that was arranged. I believe that is to what he was referring about not fitting when he came back.”

Mary sat for a moment, holding the angel’s hand and taking another drink as she absorbed everything he’d said. “So when I used to tell Dean that angels were watching over him…”

“You were entirely correct,” Castiel affirmed. “But not for the reasons that your sentiment implied.”

Another moment passed. “I was never really ‘out’, was I?” she asked. “And neither was Sam.”

“No,” Castiel replied, hoping that his voice was kind as he said it. “For you and your sons, such a thing was never really possible. You couldn’t have known that before you died, but your sons are men with great destinies written into their bones. Life apart from the supernatural was never going to be possible for them, no matter how hard you might have tried to make it so if you’d lived.” Another beat passed, and he saw tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mary. None of this has been easy to live through, and it cannot be easy to hear. But you deserve the truth, no matter how much Dean would wish you to be spared the pain of it.”

“It’s okay,” Mary forgave. “It’s better that I know. At least now I can put away regrets, and help my boys in the here and now.” She turned to him then, her dark eyes penetrating. “Are you in love with my son, Castiel?”

For a moment, Castiel didn’t know how to answer. Such a question had never been put to him directly before, even when the Host had accused him of being too emotionally attached to Dean before he’d openly rebelled against them. It should have been an easy question to answer: angels were sworn to love humans above even God, and Dean was so very, very human.

The human he’d rebuilt with his own grace. The human he’d rebelled for. The human he had followed into Purgatory and back out again. The human that, even now, he would die a thousand deaths to protect.

“All I want from Dean,” he finally replied, “is for him to let me help.”

Mary smiled again. “You know? About fifteen years from now, a novelist is going to write a book on that very theme.” Patting his hand, she pushed herself up from her seat and drank the last of the whiskey in her glass. “He’ll even recommend those words over ‘I love you’... ‘let me help.'”

“You are paraphrasing Star Trek,” Castiel observed with a little frown. “The City on the Edge of Forever.”

“You’ve seen Star Trek?” Mary asked incredulously.

“Dean is a fan,” Castiel explained. “And it is on Netflix.”

Shaking her head, Mary sighed in resignation. “One big catch-up talk is all I can manage for tonight. I’ll ask the boys about it tomorrow.” She wrapped his hand up in both of hers. “But thank you, Castiel… for telling me the truth.”

“It is not yet everything,” Castiel warned her. “There is still much I haven’t said, and even more I was not privy to.”

“But it’s enough to be going on with,” Mary assured him. “And it will help me understand my boys better. Maybe next time I can’t sleep, you can tell me more?”

Castiel found himself smiling again. He was certain that Dean wouldn’t react well to his mother finding out their history without his being able to censor what she was told, but in the end, it would be a burden lifted from Dean’s shoulders to not have to tell her everything. To have a place to begin rather than a vast landscape with no idea how to start the journey. And it would be a way to spend time with Mary. To get better acquainted with this woman that had loomed so large in the lives of these men he had followed across realms, and would again in a heartbeat.

“I would enjoy that,” he agreed.

Mary smiled. “So would I.”


End file.
